


Episode 4: Metamorphosis

by inkandpaperqwerty



Series: Bright Smiles and Bloody Lips [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Conflicted Dean Winchester, Conflicted Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean Winchester Tries, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Demon Blood Addiction, Discussion of Court Proceedings, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s04e04 Metamorphosis, Gen, John Winchester Tries, Oops, Or At Least He Did When He Was Alive, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Sexual Abuse, Sam Winchester Tries, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Single Parent Sam Winchester, THEY'RE ALL TRYING SO HARD, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Uncle Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 12:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15995099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpaperqwerty/pseuds/inkandpaperqwerty
Summary: "Dean expected Sam to find a way to cope after he was dragged to Hell. By no means did he, even for a moment, think Sam might look to parenting as a coping mechanism."Things go downhill hard and fast when Dean catches Sam hopped up on demon blood. Winchesters generally handle conflict with their fists, but Winchesters aren't normally shadowed by a little boy with a trauma background in domestic violence.





	Episode 4: Metamorphosis

Liam chewed on his lip, tilting his head to the side and examining the problem in front of him. He tilted his head back the other way, but it only made his eyes hurt, so he slouched in his chair with a heavy sigh. He knew what he was supposed to do, and he had done it right many times, but the third to last one… he just couldn’t get it. He had even finished the paper and gone back to the problem, hoping a break would help him figure it out, but every attempt he made got confused somewhere along the line. He was getting frustrated, and Sam always said school was supposed to be fun, not frustrating. He said Liam was supposed to get help when he started feeling frustration.

 _Hmm._ Liam looked at the closed doors, reaching up to tug on his hair. Sam had said he was going next door with Miss Ruby to do some work, but Liam was pretty sure they were going next door to have sex. He was used to people thinking he was too young to hear about things like _that,_ so he didn’t correct Sam, but now that he was weighing the decision to approach for help, he wished he had.

He was still trying to figure out what to do when he heard the shouting. It was soft at first, just barely making it to his side of the door, but it wasn’t sex shouting, it was angry shouting.

Liam had known the difference since he was five.

His heart started to beat a little faster, legs slowly dropping his feet to the floor and carrying him closer to the doors. He could hear bits and pieces, and he could hear banging and crashing. He wanted to turn and run away, but he had to see.

“Ruby! Stop it!”

Liam halted halfway across the room, his stomach churning as he thought about what he might find on the other side of the closed doors. It had been a long time since he watched grownups fight; he forgot how much it scared him, how sick it made him feel inside.

 _What do I do?_ He shifted from foot to foot, took a deep breath, and started to move toward the door again. _I want Sam. I want Sam to come back and make her leave._

“Dean.” Pause. “Dean!”

Liam cracked the door just in time to see Dean turn around and punch Sam in the jaw.

Liam’s blood ran cold, a quiet whimper rising in his throat. He didn’t even know where Dean came from, didn’t know where Ruby had gone, didn’t know why anyone was mad, but—but Dean and Sam weren’t supposed to hit each other. They were supposed to be different.

“Satisfied?” Sam asked.

_No, don’t make him hit you again!_

Dean, of course, did just that, swinging harder than before.

Sam’s head snapped to the side, and it looked like his lip was bloody when he turned back. “I guess not.”

 _Stop it!_ Liam pressed a hand over his mouth, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. _Stop making him mad, he’ll hit you again, please, please, stop!_

“Do you even know how far off the reservation you’ve gone?” Dean took a step closer and shoved Sam back. “How far from normal? From human?”

Sam spat blood to the side, breathing heavily, but his voice was level when he spoke. “I’m just exorcising demons.”

“With your mind!” Dean yelled, taking another step.

 _Back away!_ But Sam didn’t.

“What else can you do?” Dean sounded a little calmer, his voice lighting a spark of hope in Liam’s chest.

“I can send them back to Hell,” Sam replied, spitting to the side again.

Liam held his breath, blinking away his tears so he could see what was going on. _Please don’t make him angry._ He put his free hand over the one already on his mouth, staying as quiet as he could.

“It only works with demons, and that’s it.”

Dean grabbed Sam by the shirt and pushed him back until Sam hit the wall, screaming in his face. “What else can you do?!”

That was a last straw. Liam scrambled backward away from the door and ran to the opposite side of the room, turning in a frantic circle for several moments before choosing the corner behind a booth. He darted into the small space, soaking up the safety of tight quarters, and he curled into the smallest ball he could, covering his head.

_Stop, stop, stop!_

He rocked back and forth, gripping his hair, pulling hard and berating himself for not trying to help. He was terrible. He was selfish and weak and a coward. Sam deserved better. Sam was so good to him, and Sam needed help, and Liam wasn’t trying to stop Dean at all. They were probably arguing _about_ Liam, about what a hassle he was, about Dean not wanting him around. It was all his fault. Everything was always his fault.

_Please, stop! I don’t want this, I don’t want this again! Make it stop, make it stop!_

They were still shouting in the next room, and it was getting louder, not softer. They were angry and violent, things were being thrown, and it sounded like home in the worst of ways. He just wanted out. He wanted out, he wanted his room, he wanted his parents, he wanted to know what to expect from the people around him, he wanted—he wanted—he wanted—

Liam curled up a little tighter and sobbed, sinking into the corner and waiting for the nightmare to stop. Because he couldn't just wake up from this one. There was no Walmart to distract him. All he could do was wait. And cry.

So he did.

* * *

“It’s already gone too far, Sam! If I didn’t know you… If I didn’t know you, I would wanna hunt you.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” Sam didn’t even hesitate, the fire in his chest burning hotter than it had in a long time. “And for the record, you wanted to kill Castiel when you first met him, but you seem pretty keen on the guy now. And he isn’t saving innocent hosts, he’s burning peoples’ eyes out!”

“That wasn’t his fault, okay? He couldn’t control it. And as for trusting the guy, he’s a freakin’ _angel_ , Sam. What more do you want?” Dean took a step forward, but Sam sidestepped, determined to keep a fair amount of space between them; he wasn’t anxious to have his jaw broken, and Dean clearly wasn’t done. “I think Cas is pretty great, if you wanna know the truth. He’s the one who told me what you were up to.”

Sam actually paused at that, but anger still ran hot in his veins. “Heaven knows about this?” He spread his arms, incredulous. “Why does Heaven even care what Sam Winchester is doing?”

“I got no freaking clue, but Cas said if I don’t stop you, he will.” Dean spread his arms in an equally incredulous gesture. “You know what that means, Sam? That means _God_ doesn't want you doing this. So, what, are you just gonna stand there and tell me everything is all good?”

“Dean, it’s the _Apocalypse._ Or it’s going to be.” Sam gestured to the space around them, shaking his head to express his disgust and disbelief. “We’re wrapped up in it for some reason—not that anyone will tell us why—and we’ve got nothing. What I’m doing _works_ , and given how low we are on options—”

“Hey, we’re just helping.” Dean held up a finger, wagging it slightly. “This is their fight, not ours. They’ll handle it.” He extended his hand toward the door to the warehouse. “If they try and force us into something, we’ll tell’em where to stick it.”

“Oh, really?” Sam scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re gonna tell the angel that threatened to throw you back in Hell because you didn’t show him enough _respect_ where to stick it?” He waited for the shock to register on Dean’s face. “Yeah. Looks like I’m not the only liar in this outfit, Dean. You forgot to mention the part about Castiel threatening you with an eternity of torture because you didn’t stroke his ego.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Dean defended.

“Right, which is why you hid it from me. You know, if it weren’t for Liam, I wouldn’t even—” Sam froze.

 _Oh, no._ His heart stopped. _Liam._

“You wouldn’t have what, Sam?”

Sam bolted for the side door without responding, without thinking, throwing it open and doing a quick scan of the room. It looked empty, and his panic levels shot even higher. “Liam? Liam, where are you?” He heard footsteps behind him, but that was Dean. “Liam?” He waited another second, and then he heard quiet sobbing.

Sam mentally kicked himself. Hard. Hard enough to send his brain out the back of his skull.

“Liam?” Sam walked through the room, ducking down to look in various hiding places, and he found Liam in the furthest corner almost immediately. “Liam.” He approached the hideaway and got down on his knees, softening his voice. “Liam, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Liam didn’t respond other than a headshake.

“I’m sorry, Liam. You shouldn’t have had to see that. You—”

“You said—people—that love each other—don’t—hit!” Liam sobbed in between his words, gasping for air, staying as curled up as he could and all-out shrieking when Sam tried to make contact.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Sam pulled his hands away like he’d been burned, crawling backward to put some space between them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You lied!” Liam pushed himself back into the corner a little further, kicking at the dirty floor and walls. “I hate you! I hate both of you, leave me alone!”

Sam flinched at the words, but he pushed the pain aside. He didn’t have a right to dwell on how the situation hurt him, not after what he did. “Liam, it wasn’t a lie. I just… I made a mistake. So did Dean.”

Liam shook his head violently, still sobbing and shaking. “No.”

“People who love each other aren’t supposed to hit. _We_ aren’t supposed to hit. We’re supposed to know better. We made a mistake, Liam. Please…” Sam inched a little closer, relieved when Liam’s reaction wasn’t as violent as before. “Please, Liam. I am so, so sorry. I know you’re upset. I want to give you a hug. Will you let me?”

Liam shook his head again, but there was less resistance than before. “I don’t—care.” He hiccupped. “Leave—me—alone.”

Sam didn’t let himself sigh as he leaned against the wall, crisscrossing his legs and forcing his body into a relaxed position. “I can’t leave you, Liam. But I’ll let you stay there until you’re ready to come out. Okay?”

Liam didn’t agree by any means, but he didn’t reject the idea, either.

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed, letting his head rest back against the wall. He didn’t respond when he heard Dean settling on the floor nearby. He tried not to think about much of anything, and while it didn’t work, he was able to limit his train of thought to things revolving around Liam.

He managed to keep from thinking about the trust he had just shattered with Dean, about how angry and disgusted Dean was, about how disappointed their dad would be if he could see Sam now, about how Dean was probably thinking he should have followed orders and killed Sam a long time ago, about…

…everything.

“Liam,” he whispered, opening his eyes and looking at the corner. “I love you _so_ much, and that doesn’t mean what I did was okay, but it does mean I didn’t do it to intentionally hurt you.” He took a steadying breath, shaping his words in such a way that they could be directed at either of the people in the room. “I would _never_ intentionally hurt you, and I’m so sorry you got hurt anyway. Can you forgive me?”

Liam uncurled slightly and looked at Sam, face streaked with tears and snot. He looked lost and hurt and afraid, but his bright blue eyes were staring at Sam with so much hope it burned.

“Can you forgive me, Liam?” Sam held out his arms slightly. “If you can, can I give you a hug? This is my fault, not yours, and I’d like to try and make you feel better, if I can.”

Liam choked out another sob, but he slowly uncurled and crawled on his hands and knees toward Sam. He gave Dean a fearful stare and then hurried into Sam’s arms, burying his face in the younger Winchester’s shoulder.

“Shh…” Sam rubbed his back and stroked his hair, rocking him slightly. “Shh, it’s okay now. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“ _We’re_ sorry,” Dean whispered.

“We’re sorry,” Sam repeated.

Liam didn’t say anything. He just clung to Sam and tried to burrow inside the safety Sam provided, ducking his head and drawing his limbs in, his little body trembling against Sam’s front.

“We’re sorry.” Sam kissed the top of Liam’s head and hugged him tight, screwing his eyes shut. “We’re so sorry, Liam. It won’t happen again. We weren’t thinking. We were stupid. Dean and I still love each other very much, and we know what we did was wrong, and we won’t let it happen again. It’s alright now, Liam. I promise. It’s alright.”

Sam didn’t open his eyes when Dean’s phone rang or when Dean got up to leave. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of dreading the next several days… weeks… months…

“I love you, Liam. I love you so, so much.”

He didn’t allow himself the luxury of dreading the decision he would have to make. Would he stop drinking demon blood? Did he think he could protect Liam without that power? Would Dean just be angry and disgusted, or would he cut Sam out altogether?

“S—Sam?”

Sam hugged Liam a little tighter. “Yeah?”

“Can—you say—say it again? Please?”

“I love you so much, Liam.” Sam kissed the top of his head. “I love you more than you will ever be able to understand. I love you so much. I love you…”

* * *

“You finish the job?” Sam glanced over at the motel bed, trying not to sigh when he saw Liam vacantly staring at the cartoons on the screen.

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice came from the other end of the line. “It got a little rough toward the end, and the wife took off somewhere, but we took care of the situation. Travis had to hit the hospital for some serious stitches, but he’s fine, and I don’t have anything our first aid kit can’t fix.”

Sam glanced over at the bed again and lowered his voice, grabbing a takeout menu from the bar in the kitchenette. “Maybe coming home with a bunch of injuries from a violent fight isn’t a great idea right now, Dean.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Dean swore. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll figure out what hospital is closest to the motel and get patched up. Just be ready to leave as soon as I’m done. We don’t wanna stick around to see how long the stolen IDs and insurance cards hold up.”

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Got it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uh, do you want me to order something to eat?”

“Nah, we’ll hit a drive-thru once we’re on the road.” There was another pause, and then Dean cleared his throat. “Sammy, I…”

Sam waited for a moment and pressed when there was only silence. “You…?”

Dean sighed. “Never mind. I’ll call you when I leave the hospital.”

Click.

Sam heaved a sigh of his own and snapped his phone shut, turning around and leaning back against the bar. He tossed the takeout menu aside and looked at Liam again.

“Liam, is it alright if I pack your art supplies for you?”

Liam continued to stare blankly at the TV, unresponsive.

“Okay, well… I’m gonna pack up your art supplies for you. We need to leave as soon as Dean gets back.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the table, gathering the colored pencils by the handful and depositing them in their plastic container. “Maybe you can get some sleep while we drive. I know you didn’t want to sleep before, but… you really should try and get some rest.”

Nothing.

“You can use your new pillow and blanket. I bet we—” Sam stopped, frowning slightly as he spied a nearly blank sheet with entirely-too-neat writing on it. He picked it up and skimmed the words, mumbling under his breath. “Liam, Dean is right; your mouth will get you into trouble one day. You would do well…” He lifted his voice slightly. “Liam, I think Castiel left a note for you. He must have found your picture.” _Right after telling Dean where to find me._

Liam still said nothing. He didn’t even look.

 _Oh, boy._ Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed, stacking the papers in a nice pile. “Well, I’ll put it on the top in case you want to look at it then.”

Liam was quiet. He was quiet while Sam cleaned up, quiet while Sam packed, quiet while Sam flipped through the channels, quiet while Sam got another update from Dean… just quiet. Perpetually, eerily quiet.

“Um, I’m gonna step outside for some air.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and glanced through the doorway. “I’m locking the door behind me. You know the rules… and I, uh, I won’t be going far.”

Nothing.

“Okay. I love you.” Sam closed the door and locked it behind him, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking toward the end of the building.

He passed a few doors as he went, instinctively looking over his shoulder every few seconds, and then he was nestled in the alley between the motel building and the apartment complex next to it.

Inhaling deeply, Sam ran both hands through his hair and interlocked his fingers behind his head. He looked up at the sky, light pollution leaving the murky blue devoid of stars.

“I wish you were here,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do, and I know—I know we didn’t always get along, but Dad, I—” His voice cracked and he stopped, swallowing hard, screwing his eyes shut. “I miss you so much, and I just want to do the right thing, and… what I wouldn’t give for an order to follow… for someone else to be making the rules again.” He ran his hands through his hair, rubbed his face, and then shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry all we ever did was fight. I’m sorry I never got to say good—” His hands rushed back up to his face again, covering his eyes before the next onslaught of tears could hit.

Ironically, he couldn’t imagine John being very supportive or understanding, given the situation. If John were to miraculously come back from the dead, he would either be tearing into Sam for the demon blood, lecturing Sam about taking on the responsibility of a child when he couldn’t afford to, or smacking Sam upside the head and telling him men didn’t cry.

But Sam didn’t care. He was confused and afraid, and he was at odds with Dean, and he didn’t feel safe praying anymore, and he wanted his dad.

“If you can hear me, I…” Sam rubbed his face. “I love you, and I’m sorry, and…” He grit his teeth, shutting his eyes with a shuddering exhale. “I wish you were here, Dad. I just wish you were here. I wish I could ask you what to do, even if I disagreed with everything you said. I just—I miss you so much, Daddy, and I—” He cut himself off with a hard swallow and a clearing of his throat. “Dad. I miss you, _Dad_.” He coughed a few times and wiped his eyes. “I… I hope you’re somewhere nice. Uh, we know you got out of Hell, and now that we know there’s a Heaven…” He shrugged, wiping his eyes again. “Well, I just hope you’re somewhere nice.”

Sam took a deep breath and ran both hands through his hair again. _Okay._ He let out a sigh and started walking back toward the motel room, fishing the key from his pocket. _Time to get back to work._ Doing what, he didn’t know, but he knew he couldn’t sit around twiddling his thumbs or talking to the sky and crying. _I’ll make a list of pros and cons of demon blood._

It was a stupid idea, but it was better than nothing, so Sam shoved his key into the lock with the intention of getting paper once he was on the other side.

What else could he do?

* * *

“Is he asleep?”

Sam heaved a sigh and leaned against the passenger side window, cupping his face in his hand. “I think so. It’s hard to tell. If he doesn’t want us to know he’s awake, we aren’t going to know.”

Sam jolted when the Impala swerved suddenly, heart hammering in his chest. “What the—?”

“He’s asleep. He didn’t even flinch.” Dean reached up to scratch the bandage on his cheek. “He… talked to me about some stuff the other day. I didn’t really know how to bring it up… didn’t really want to… and he said he told you, but I honestly can’t tell when the kid’s lying, so I wasn’t sure how much you actually knew, and…”

Sam was still trying to get his heart back behind his ribcage where it belonged, but he managed a nod to indicate he was listening.

“He, uh… he told me some stuff about his dad.” Dean glanced at Sam briefly. “Has he…? I mean, how much of that is—?”

“Honestly?” Sam turned his eyes to the road and stared on ahead, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. “If he was lying about anything he told you regarding his parents, he was almost definitely covering for them.”

Dean cursed under his breath. “So, his dad really…? And the mom covered for him?”

“Yup.” Sam paused slightly, shrugging. “I mean, spouses don’t know _everything_ about each other, but just based on her behavior and the stories she used to try and cover… she knew something was up. She just didn’t expect that when she took Liam to the ER for a spiral fracture in his arm—which they’re almost positive she caused—the doctor would start looking for other injuries and asking questions regarding to all forms of abuse. Or that Liam would tell the truth.” Sam shrugged his shoulders again, a weary and bitter sigh heaving his shoulders. “Not that she would be any less guilty if she really didn’t know. She physically abused and neglected Liam.”

Dean heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. “That’s… geeze.”

“Yeah.” Sam turned in his seat to look at Liam, who was curled up against the door with a stuffed kitten clutched to his chest, and then he turned back to the window. “She refused to take non-offender classes, anger management classes, parenting classes—any of it. She just kept insisting it wasn’t lawful how Liam was taken from her. Plus, she hired a criminal attorney, so he made everything _drag._ ”

Dean squinted slightly, cocking his head to one side. “Does it matter that he was a criminal attorney?”

Sam nodded his head. “Yeah. So, children are adjudicated dependent in civil court. Basically, it’s determined that the child isn’t safe, and custody of the child is given to the state or county—usually to Children, Youth & Families. Meanwhile, whoever lost the kid is given a list of requirements.” He took a deep breath and tried cram several weeks of training into a five-minute speech. “If there are criminal charges, those are handled separately. If your kid is deemed unsafe with you, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re being charged with something; however, if you want your kid back, you have to do what the court says.”

Dean pursed his lips and slowly nodded. “Okay, I think I follow. So, what happens when you add a criminal attorney to the mix?”

“Well, it doesn’t always happen, but it happened on an old case I had, and based on the reports I read, it’s what happened with Liam.” Sam cleared his throat, once again shaving off as many unnecessary details as he could. “Basically, the lawyer told the mom not to agree to anything, because if she agrees to take non-offender classes, she’s admitting she knew what her husband was doing.”

Dean frowned for a moment but continued to nod. “I can see that.”

“Except it doesn’t matter. If the court says you need to take non-offender classes, you need to take them. We have probable cause to believe what we do, and we don’t really care if you admit or not. If you don’t comply, you don’t get your kid back, plain and simple.” Sam held his hands up slightly, a silent ‘too bad, so sad.’ “Honestly, I don’t think she wanted Liam back. She blamed him for his dad going to jail because she had to get a job and actually support herself. Most of the time, when you see that mix of in-court and out-of-court behavior, it’s a possession thing. It’s _their_ kid, and they _deserve_ to have custody.”

Dean grimaced.

“Now,” Sam held up a finger, “at that point, the caseworker should have gone for termination of parental rights, because it had become obvious the mom was never gonna do what she needed to do. But this caseworker just… _didn’t._ Liam had been in the system for two and a half years when I found him, and it was just this ongoing battle of wills between the caseworker and the lawyer, arguing over what the requirements were, what they meant, legal practices, and so on. Meanwhile, Liam got shuffled between seven different foster and group homes.”

Dean whistled long and low, flicking on his turn signal as they approached an exit. “He told me something about his first foster home. Becketts? Bakers? Something like that. He said he liked them. What happened there?”

“He took a crowbar and smashed every window in their house.”

Dean did a doubletake, eyes wide. “He what?”

Sam glanced in the back and uttered a soft sigh, briefly wondering how much of his sadness showed on his face. “Children like Liam… when they go to a good home, they really like it, but they still want to go back to their parents. So, at first, they’re on their best behavior. They really like this new place, and they don’t want anybody getting mad or hurting them… but then they start to get scared. They think if they show how happy they are in this new place, they’ll never get to go home. So, they self-sabotage. They think if they show how angry and unhappy they are in the foster home, they’ll get sent back to their parents… or at least, nothing will be made permanent. Liam would not be the first kid to fear permanent placement that _wasn’t_ home so much that he caused thousands of dollars’ worth of damage.”

Dean took a moment to process the new information, and then his brain started to run with it. “And they got rid of him… I mean, not that I don’t get the frustration, but I’m guessing that confirms the kid’s idea that people only care about you when you’re good. If you mess up enough, they’ll either abandon or beat you.”

Sam pressed his lips into a line and nodded. “Basically, yeah. On top of that, every time a kid gets moved, they lose ten connections. It’s almost impossible to form lasting relationships, and it adds to that feeling of abandonment and not belonging.”

Dean whistled again. “Man, I don’t wanna think about how many connections we’ve lost over the years, Sammy.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He sobered then. “But Liam has lost at least seventy, and unlike us, he didn’t have a brother and dad moving around with him. He was getting tossed from place to place on his own, and all the family figures would change every time. He has no sense of stability.” Which was why it was so important that Liam was able to rely on Sam and Dean; why it was so important Sam and Dean didn’t come to blows _ever_ again.

Dean winced, pulling Baby into a rest stop and putting her in park. “I either need to switch or get some coffee.”

“How about both?” Sam suggested, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “We’ll have to take turns so someone can stay out here with Liam.”

Dean got out and shut the door behind him, leaning through the open window with a frown. “You don’t think we should see if he needs a pit stop?”

Sam shook his head. “He’s been awake since yesterday morning. That’s why we weren’t at the motel in the first place. He woke me up around four, we went to Walmart, and… I just tried to distract him. Then, while I was…” he cleared his throat, “…he was doing school, trying to keep himself awake. He wouldn’t sleep in the motel while you were hunting the ruguru, either.” He shook his head a few more times. “Any other time, I’d agree with you, but… he’s so tired, Dean.”

Dean gave a couple nods, short and jerky but genuine. “Got it. You go first. I’ll stay with the small fry.”

Sam nodded and got out on his side, stretching his arms over his head and cracking the bones in his neck and back.

“Sammy?”

Sam stopped and looked across the hood of the Impala, quirking a brow.

“Are we okay? I mean, obviously not, but…” Dean looked at him for a moment, concern creasing his brow. “We’ll work this out, right?”

Sam returned the stare, albeit with much less concern, and then he let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, Dean.” He started walking toward the store, shaking his head. “If you want to get rid of me, you’re going to have to go back to Hell. You’re stuck with me otherwise.”

Dean smiled at him briefly, and while there was still hurt and anger and confusion swirling around in his eyes, there was contentedness. Things were bad, but they wouldn’t always be bad. They just had to remember that, one day, they were going to come out on the other side, and when they did… not if they did, but _when_ they did, they were going to be glad they didn’t let go of each other.

Sam pushed his way into the store and followed the signs to the restroom. It was empty, making his text tone seem exceptionally loud when it went off.

“Seriously? I literally just left.” Sam flipped his phone open, annoyance vanishing when he saw the notification on his screen.

 

**_1 New Message_ **

**_Ruby_ ** _is Liam ok?_

 

Sam took a deep breath, glanced around, and then typed out a quick reply. It was nice that she was asking about Liam, especially given her initial reaction to him. Of course, Dean’s initial reaction hadn’t been all that great, either, but everyone seemed to be coming around in the end. And it gave him a chance to talk to her—to a _friend_ —without addressing the elephant in the room. He needed that.

 

**_1 New Message_ **

**_Ruby_ ** _ok. anything I can do?_

 

Sam wet his lips and considered the text for a long moment. Ultimately, he decided to play it safe and told her he would let her know. Because he really didn’t know where he stood with her, where he wanted to stand with her, or what stances Dean was willing to accept.

_You’re going to let Dean dictate your love life? And your parenting?_

Sam shook it off. It wasn’t like that. Heck, _Sam_ was the one standing in alleyways asking their dead father for advice. It made sense he was seeking guidance from Dean. Dean had good input, and Dean was family, and Dean had always had Sam’s best interests at heart.

_I can’t tell what’s the blood and what’s my own brain._

Which is why he didn’t like the blood. But he couldn’t deny the reality of all Ruby had pointed out. What was Sam supposed to do if Lilith came after Liam? Or Dean again? What was he supposed to do if Heaven didn’t like Liam? What if Dean didn’t show Castiel enough ‘respect’ and got thrown back in Hell? What was Sam supposed to do? How was he supposed to fix it? How was he supposed to keep everyone safe when he was just one man?

 

**_1 New Message_ **

**_Dean_ ** _you passing a kidney stone in there?_

Sam huffed out a little laugh and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He splashed his face with water and then got back to his business, trying to shove his anxious thoughts aside. He didn’t have to figure everything out in one night, and before he could think about anything long-term, he had to get Liam talking again. He had time. He could get the blood completely out of his system, think with a clear head…

Sam felt the phone vibrate again and grabbed it with his free hand.

 

**_2 New Messages_ **

**_Dean_ ** _seriously tho u ok?_

**_Ruby_ ** _glad he’s ok. are you?_

 

Sam very nearly started crying again. He didn’t, because he was in the men’s restroom with his fly down, and that was a line of awkwardness he was unwilling to cross, but he very nearly did. And as he washed his hands and started looking around for snacks and drinks, he found the urge only got stronger.

 

**_Reply_ ** _Lol, I’m fine. Give me more than thirty seconds. This isn’t a literal pit stop._

**_Reply_ ** _Yeah, me too. I’m fine, just can’t stop worrying about Liam._

 

Sam would never admit how much those ten little words impacted his decision.

 

**_2 New Messages_ **

**_Dean_ ** _ok. see you soon._

**_Ruby_ ** _no youre not. talk to me._

 


End file.
